


Courting Dragons

by anaer



Category: Final Fantasy VII, Final Fantasy VIII, Kingdom Hearts
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Dragons, Humor, M/M, Strifehart Week 2017
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-21
Updated: 2017-08-21
Packaged: 2018-12-18 01:41:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,624
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11864016
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anaer/pseuds/anaer
Summary: Prince Squall gets kidnapped by the local dragon.  Things get awkward.“So all of – this,” he gestures around them, “was to get my attention.”“I mean…yeah?  Obviously.”Squall scoffs.  “Obviously.  Right.  You know, if you wanted my attention, there were way better ways to get it.  Especially after burning down half the kingdom for a solid three weeks already.”Cloud shrugs again.  “Yes, but…I’m a dragon.  It’s kind of what I do.  Burn down towns and horde gold and kidnap princesses and all that.”Strifehart Week 2017:  Day 1 - Fantasy





	Courting Dragons

**Author's Note:**

> It's Strifehart Week!
> 
> So, I wasn't going to write fic. I was going to do art, but the idea of dragon!Cloud wouldn't leave me alone. I was not about to draw that, so here we are.

In the future, when Squall gets out of this _mess_ and gets _home_ and gets to record the official record of what happened here, everything is definitely going to be blamed on Seifer Almasy.  As far as Squall’s concerned, it is the damned knight’s fault in the first place, standing there and laughing and pointing and generally being useless and not doing his damn job at all.  What even was the point of hiring him in the first place if he was content to sit back and watch his crown prince get kidnapped?  Squall is definitely going to write a very strongly worded rebuke to Laguna after this, encouraging the man’s firing.  Not that the last…twenty-three write ups have done anything.

And here he’d thought that being the son of the king means something.

Not to Laguna.

Damn him.

This is probably also at least seventy-nine percent his father’s fault, come to think of it.  Squall will lay blame where blame is due.  Laguna’s the one who’d decided to go and get into a pissing contest with Edea, and as nice as his foster mother could be, no sorceress took the kind of insults she’d been dealt lying down.   Laguna still didn’t see why it was uncouth of a king to get drunk and go moon the local sorceress, but Laguna was kind of an idiot.  And thus had started an epic war between the two of them, culminating with the current bane of Squall’s existence.

The dragon.

Ah, yes.  The stupid dragon.

Speaking of which…

“You hungry?”  The man asking him that question doesn’t look like a dragon.  Hell, if Squall had seen him on the street, he might’ve even stopped to look twice.  He’s more than a little attractive, with the blonde spikes in his hair and the weirdly hot glowing eyes, and the perfect body that is, for some reason unknown to him, _still_ _naked_.  And Squall is not, in fact, getting uncomfortable down in his nether regions because he is _too fucking pissed_ to appreciate the sight.

The sight that, of course, does not look like a dragon.  Squall would not believe that the man in front of him was the dragon that has been pillaging the land for the past three weeks (the one that Edea had summoned in a fit of rage after Laguna had upped the ante in their ongoing quarrel by unleashing a horde of tiny, ferocious, prank-inclined sprites onto her sacred land that had turned everything she owned bright pink with a terribly thick layer of glitter on top, thanks Gullwings) except for the fact that two minutes ago, he’d been a dragon.

Also, the wing sticking out of his back and the previously mentioned glowing eyes are fairly convincing.  Not to mention the fact that they’re currently in a cave somewhere up in the nearby mountains, stuffed to the brim with gold and knickknacks, and a surprisingly well set table complete with candles and plates like this is supposed to be romantic and not a major annoyance.

Still, Squall merely crosses his arms and glares at the dragon man.  If looks could kill, he would have been dead at least three hours ago.  The man tosses a glance back over his shoulder, sees the glare, then shrugs.

“Your loss,” he says.  “I’m Cloud, by the way.”

“Whatever,” Squall replies.  He doesn’t care.  He doesn’t want to know Cloud’s name; he hadn’t asked.  It’s the first word he’s said at all in the past few hours, though, and Cloud brightens almost instantly.  The blonde saunters over to the table and sits at the opposite end, facing Squall, and still naked. 

Still fucking naked.

It’s been three minutes, and Squall is tired of this.  Cloud just sits there staring at him expectantly.  What he’s expecting, the poor prince doesn’t know.

“Would you please put some clothes on?” finally bursts out of him when the silence between them stretches too far.  Cloud arches an eyebrow and glances down at his body for a second.

“Why?” he asks when he looks back up, genuine curiosity written in those unnaturally glowing eyes.  “I don’t normally.  I’m at home.  This is my cave.”

“The cave you fucking kidnapped me to,” Squall mutters under his breath.  Cloud still hears and purses his lips, pushing out an annoyed huff of breath.  Squall has tried to leave at least three times now, but the dragon that’s not currently a dragon had been a proper dragon at the time and sleeping, that giant black and gold torso blocking the only exit. 

“I wouldn’t call it kidnapping,” Cloud responds, annoyance written in his voice.  He sounds just as annoyed as Squall feels and isn’t that rich?  What the hell does he have to be annoyed about?

“Oh?  You wouldn’t? I was sitting on my balcony, minding my own fucking business, when you swooped in from above and spirited me off to – wherever the fuck we are now!  And Seifer just – sits there and laughs.  The asshole.  So pardon me.  And please, do tell me, what the fuck would you call that, _Cloud_?”

Cloud doesn’t answer right away.  There’s a roast of meat – literally roasted, and black through and through – set in the middle of the table, and he reaches over to rip a piece off of it and drop it onto his plate.  He picks up the fork and slowly puts a bite into his mouth.  He chews, over and over and over again, way longer than Squall thinks anyone needs to chew their food, let alone a dragon, but there’s a contemplative lilt to the way he’s moving, so Squall waits for the answer to the question he’s just posed.

Finally, Cloud swallows, and when he does, he has his answer.

“Courting.”

That is – definitely not the answer Squall expected to hear.  Or the answer he wants to hear.  But it does explain a lot:  the rose petals that seem to be littered all over the cave floor, especially.  Squall really wishes he had his sword.  “Slay a dragon” has yet to be put on his bucket list, but he thinks he’ll rectify that as soon as he gets home.

“Courting,” he repeats, voice flat. 

Cloud nods once, decisively.  “Yes.”

“So all of – this,” he gestures around them, “was to get my attention.”

“I mean…yeah?  Obviously.”

Squall scoffs.  “ _Obviously_.  Right.  You know, if you wanted my attention, there were way better ways to get it.  Especially after burning down half the kingdom for a solid three weeks already.”

Cloud shrugs again.  “Yes, but…I’m a dragon.  It’s kind of what I do.  Burn down towns and horde gold and kidnap princesses and all that.”

That snaps Squall’s attention to.  He gets up and storms over to the table, plopping himself down into the chair across from Cloud in order to best glare right into his glowing blue eyes.  “So I’m a _princess_?  You’re definitely not digging yourself into more of a hole the longer you keep talking.”

Cloud scoffs.  “Of course you’re not.  At least,” here he pauses and looks harder at Squall, his brow furrowed in concentration, “I _hope_ you’re not.  I’m not into women.”

Squall is going to stab this dragon with a rusty spork.  He’s sure Laguna has one lying around back home somewhere.  The palace is vast – many things have been lost to dark corners. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath in.  Ten.  Nine.  Eight.  Seven.  Six – and he’s calm enough again.  He opens his eyes, and there is a plate of burnt meat in front of him. 

Even if Squall weren’t mad, he wouldn’t eat that shit.  This dragon can clearly not cook at all. 

“If this _is_ courting,” he begins slowly, “Then you’ll excuse me if my answer to you is a resounding ‘no’.”

Cloud looks put out.  He sticks his lip out in what can only be described as a pout and stabs at the meat on his plate.  “You won’t at least consider it?”

“No.”

“I’ve been watching you for weeks.”

“That’s not helping your case.  At all.”

“But—”

“Take me home.  Now.”

Cloud sighs, and drops the fork, pinned meat and all.  “Fine,” he huffs.  “Your loss.”  He stands up, and Squall gets another glimpse of – everything.  Full frontal. It’s – not a bad view.  Squall’s scowl grows.  It’s unfair that he’s flaunting this in his face right now. 

“But,” Cloud pauses to add, “before you go.  Do you at least want to maybe…hate bang?”

The ‘no’ is at the tip of his tongue, but all of Cloud’s – everything – is right there, too.  Squall presses one hand up to the scar at the bridge of his nose and sighs.  He already knows what his answer is going to be, and he hates himself a little bit for it.  Besides, he’s already pulling his shirt off over his head.

“Fine,” he snaps.  “But I’m going home _right_ _after_.”

Cloud smirks in triumph. 

Two weeks later, Squall finally strolls back into the palace.  His clothes are a mess, his hair is a mess, his belts are possibly destroyed beyond the point of repair, and he’s sore in more places than he cares to think about.  Laguna is inconsolable when he walks in and rushes to hug him, only held at bay by Squall’s arm stretched out between them. 

“Oh, God, son, I thought you were eaten!” the king bawls, still struggling futilely to hug his child.  Squall rolls his eyes and barely keeps himself from finishing that with an innuendo.  Because, honestly, he kind of was. 

“I’m alive,” he reassures.  But, most importantly, “Also, I might be marrying the dragon.  So thank Seifer for me.  This is definitely, definitely his fault.”

End.


End file.
